The Bats are a Family
by musicalgirl4474
Summary: This is a collection of Batfamily oneshots. Includes Reversed age!Robins, A/B/O dynamics, romances (slash and otherwise), hurt/comfort, etc. Will include other dc characters. Speaking of . . . I don't own Batman or any other DC characters. Formerly called 'Batfamily in a Psychology Textbook'.
1. Personality Psychologist

**AN: Okay, so I took AP Psychology, and had to do note cards. The format of the note cards was definition, and then a real life example or way to remember it (the italics). So . . . yeah. Writing one-shots has become how I am studying the earlier words. Figured I'd share them.**

 **Personality Psychologist** \- Focus on the person

 _Different people in the same situation._

This one is a reverse age fic. Damian (Shadow) is eldest, followed by Tim (Red Bat), then Jason (Batboy/ Red Hood), and Dick (Robin) is the youngest.

There was something to be said about trying to help a member of the batfamily via psychology. They had all gone through so much, together and individually. They never reacted the same to the same situation. Batman hardly ever showed any emotion, and it was the same with his blood son, Shadow. Red Bat, Batman's second protegè, was every bit the detective his mentor was, maybe even better. Still, he showed some emotion, most obvious when he was with Superboy (Kon-El, Conner). Batboy had been a piece of work. A lot of emotion, anger, fear, an overabundance of energy. He felt everything to an extent that he didn't let his team know about, because he was a bat, and he couldn't cry, couldn't show that kind of intense emotion. And then he had died, and little more than a month later, Robin was there. He was unlike any of the others. Whatever emotion he was feeling, he was willing to show. He was largely happy, though he looked beyond sad whenever anyone mentioned Batboy. He was also young, two years younger (at eight) than Shadow had been when he had first been Batman's protegè, and five years younger than Red Bat and Batboy had been.

The first time that Black Canary had had to help the entire Bat Family was when Batboy died. Batman had only shown up because of Superman's intervention, and he dragged Shadow with him. Red Bat, she was pretty sure, only came because he wanted to see Kon, and Batman was doing his overprotective/smothering act. She hadn't seen Robin at the first few sessions; indeed, she hadn't known that he existed. He must have though, because Batman wouldn't let an eight-year-old with less than a month of training out on the streets of Gotham.

Batman had been stoic, silent and brooding. Grieving. Shadow had been angry, fists almost constantly clenched in his black gloves, eyes narrowed under his domino mask. Glaring at his father. Red Bat had stood at the back of the room, arms crossed against the red chest of his costume, glaring moodily at the wall. Black Canary sighed. She had her work cut out for her.

"Why don't you sit down, Red Bat?"

"I'm fine where I am, thank you." His curt, clipped words betrayed his pain. Red Bat and Batboy had been quite a bit closer than Shadow and Red Bat, or even Shadow and Batboy.

"Alright." She directed her next question to Shadow. Best not to make this feel like an interrogation, that would do no good for anyone. "How are you holding up?" Shadow just scowled, crossing his arms as well as he turned away to glare at a wall, taking a visible effort to unclench his hands.

"She asked you a question, Shadow."

"It's open for you to answer or not," Black Canary said quickly. Maybe she should have done this one-on-one. Batman was not helping. Shadow snarled, ignoring what Black Canary had just said, rounding on his father.

"Shut up!" Red Bat jumped, looking in some surprise at Shadow, who was almost always respectful towards his father, and who never used anything that might be considered 'slang'. Black Canary, leaned back in her chair, ready to get out of the way at any moment. Shadow didn't show much emotion, but when he got angry, something was going to break. "You don't get to try and facilitate my answering any questions in this room! It is your fault we're here! One would think you would learn, learn that you can't fit a human being into a mold that you created. Apparently you didn't, and that cost me a brother! And . . . and then you go and . . ." Were those . . . were those tears? "You go and find another . . . to occupy your time . . . as if it meant nothing to you! As if you have not learned! Just going to keep trying until you create the perfect little soldier, huh, Batman?!"

"Shadow-" Red Bat cut in, stepping forward, but Shadow shook his head, glaring at the younger hero.

"He's not even cold in the ground," he hissed at Batman. "Not even cold in the ground and it is obvious that you. Don't. Care." The last three words were punctuated with a finger prodding Batman's chest. "I can't stand to look at you." And he rose from the chair, black tattered cape waving behind him as he pulled up his hood and left the room. He probably would have slammed the door if it weren't mechanical. With a growl, Batman got up as well, following his son out into the rest of the mountain. With another sigh, Black Canary turned to the last occupant. Red Bat shrugged.

"It's been like that at home all day. Most of yesterday too. Shadow's angry that Batman didn't tell him about . . . about it until yesterday. He couldn't even go to the funeral."

"Ah. That must have been hard." She leaned forward, a cue that he could talk about anything, and she would listen. Red Bat was likely to open up a little more with Batman gone.

"It's been lonely at home. They're either yelling at each other or brooding. And it's not like any of us is good at defusing that kind of tension. Only . . . only he could sometimes manage it, by doing something stupid but . . . well, he's gone now, so." He paused here to wipe at the tears as they slid from under his red domino mask. He came forward from the wall and collapsed into the chair where Shadow had been sitting. In front and slightly to the right of Black Canary. He'd forgone the chair Batman had sat in, the one directly in front of her. "And Batman's gone and made it worse, he's scared Shadow and me 'cause he's gone and-" Red Bat stopped there, looking shocked.

"Nothing you say leaves this room," Black Canary prompted. Red Bat chuckled.

"You may not be able to stop yourself. I won't leave a mark on your patient-doctor confidentiality, Canary." He got up to leave then. "I'll try to bring them back for another one next week," he said, though from the tone of his voice, he wasn't sure he'd succeed.

"Conner's in the living room," Canary said as Red Bat reached the door. Maybe he'd talk with Superboy about whatever it was that was bothering him. He turned and flashed her a smile.

"Thanks."

 **A/N: Reviews are very appreciated!**


	2. Social Psychologist

**A/N: This one's sort of a continuation of the last one, but I think it still can count as a one-shot . . . maybe? ALSO: there will be mentions of relationships, slash and otherwise, in this bunch of one-shots, but nothing explicit. At least, that's the plan as of now. There will be a warning in the author's note at the beginning of the chapter if that ever changes.**

 **This one is dedicated to the guest reviewer** jody black **.**

 **Social Psychologist** \- Focus on the Situations

 _Same people in different situations._

This one is a reverse age fic. Damian (Shadow) is eldest, followed by Tim (Red Bat), then Jason (Batboy/ Red Hood), and Dick (Robin) is the youngest.

When Red Hood appeared in Gotham, the rest of the hero community barely noticed it. When it got out that Red Hood had kidnapped Robin, the whole Justice League was suddenly mobilizing on a manhunt. No one messed with Robin and got away with it. (Not even Batman, who had once come up to the watch tower sporting a black eye courtesy of Shadow when he had pushed Robin a bit too far in training, causing the then nine-year-old boy to faint from dehydration).

Red Bat had come tearing through the mountain, all hard breaths and gasped words when he ran into Conner.

"Whoa," Conner said, gripping Red Bat by his upper arms so that his boyfriend didn't go tumbling to the floor as his knees gave out. "What happened?" He asked, alarmed, as he picked Red Bat up bridal style to deposit him on the couch in the near-by living room.

"Robin and I were ambushed," Red Bat gasped. It was then that Conner noticed that Red Bat was missing his usual plethora of utility belts and gadgets. "I barely got away. Zeta to the Mountain was closest, so I ran there. Here. Whichever. But there was something else, something I need to tell someone . . ."

"You alright?" Conner asked, running a hand through Tim's sweat-soaked hair. "You're burning up," he said, worried. "Your face is all red."

"Drug, I'll be fine." Suddenly, he grabbed Conner by the shirt and pulled him down, blue eyes suddenly panicked. "That was it! Red Hood has Robin! Kon, you have to let Bats know! The Red Hood has Robin!" Then, his eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted.

LINEBREAKTHINGORSOMETHING

They say that people react differently in different situations with different people. Conner had seen Red Bat beat the crap out of people threatening his family before. He'd also seen him cuddling with the team and dancing with one of his best friends Spoiler. And he'd seen him indifferent as hell when anyone else would have been crying their eyes out. But he'd never seen (or, rather, heard) him pleading and desperate. Somehow, even still recovering from the drug in his system, and with the whole Justice League out searching, Red Bat had been the first to find the Red Hood.

"Jay come _home_. Please." It was only due to his super hearing that Superboy heard the conversation taking place in the other room. When the team had finally gotten there, Red Bat had already engaged in a fight with the Red Hood. As cool and calm in battle as always, he had instructed them to help Robin, who was tied (rather masterfully, he had to admit) from one of the exposed beams in the dilapidated apartment complex. The rest of the team had been very sceptical about leaving their leader to fight the criminal alone, but then the ancient building had given a groan and caused the doorway to the room where the fight was taking place to collapse. Probably because one of the fighters had been thrown into the wall.

"Red Bat!" Robin's voice was young, scared. Miss Martian did her best to comfort the boy as Artemis worked on untying him.

"I'm fine!" His voice was muffled, but it sounded annoyed.

"Could we not move the rubble?" Asked Aqualad.

"The building isn't structurally sound," Superboy said, letting his X-ray vision scan the integrity. "Too much shifting could bring the whole thing down." Robin stood up then, rubbing his red wrists with an annoyed expression. He'd be joining the team soon, as well as Kid Flash. Conner wondered if that was a good idea. The kid was so _small_.

Superboy's concentration was brought once again to bear on the blocked doorway to the other room. "Home? That cave aint a _home_ , Little Bat."

"Little!?" Tim's voice squawked with indignation. "Little? I'm older than you by a few years!"

"And yet I'm bigger than you. You can't make me do anything."

"What's your game, Jason?" Now Tim's voice was tired. Whoever this 'Jason' was, it was obvious that Tim had met him before, knew him pretty well.

"My game? My game is to let Batman know that he can't keep putting kids on the street. That it's a curse to be the Batman's partner. You know that to be the truth same as I do, Timothy."

"It was my choice!" Wait, what!? Conner swung around from the door to look for Robin, but the boy was gone. The rest of the team looked dumbstruck, peering into shadows as if they had only just noticed he was missing as well, though they couldn't hear the conversation going on in the other room.

Click. The sound of a safety coming off of a gun. Ominous.

"And how much training did he give you kid? A week? Two? And then he had you out on the streets that created and are run by the Joker and Two-Face and Killer Croc?"

"I've been an acrobat all my life." Credit to the kid, even though Conner's X-ray vision told him that the gun was pointed right at him, Robin's voice was steady, maybe even a bit whiny.

"What's going on in there?" Artemis seemed worried, plucking at her bow string with nervous fingers.

"We may need to bust in there on a moment's notice, structural integrity notwithstanding," Conner murmured back.

"Leave him alone, Hood, he has nothing to do with this." Tim moved to put himself between Robin and the gun.

"Is there any other way into that room?" Aqualad asked, squinting at the rubble-blocked door.

"No other doors," Superboy responded, still watching the scene in the other room as Red Hood lowered the gun slightly.

"Come now Little Bat," Red Hood said, voice patronizing. "No one's coming to save you. Your team's out there, the Justice League is nowhere near the area, and Big Bat's not gonna even know you're back in Gotham 'till it's too late."

"Hood please, let's just go home! Even Shadow misses you."

"Shadow? Please, I'd believe he misses me at about the same time I believe B misses me."

"He does, though. He wants you to come home too." The figures were still, speaking from positions that could turn into attack or defense at the slightest provocation.

Red Hood snorted. "You don't know Bats like I do, Birdie. And you don't know me."

"I know you won't hurt us."

"And whatever gave you that idea?"

"We're family. And family never hurts each other. Never. 'Cause this family's all any of us have got left."

There was silence for a while before Red Hood put his gun back into its holster. "And how do you plan on convincing B of that, kid?"

"I won't need to."

"So confident." Red Hood snorted. "That's gonna get you in a bad situation one of these days kid."

"I'm good with that if it gets you back to the manor."

"I aint goin' back kid. I have to live my own life."

"You're not of age, Jason."

"I was out on the streets before you put on the mask, Red Bat. I can take care of myself."

"Then I wish you would, little brother."

"I do just fine on my own."

"Conner?" M'gan asked. "What's going on in there?"

"It's fine, I think the situation's under control." Which was confusing in and of itself. Red Bat and Robin knew this criminal, in fact, he was their brother. And the voice had been vaguely familiar. Except . . . Batboy was dead. The Joker had murdered him. They'd seen the body (that had been the only time he'd ever seen Red Bat lose it entirely, falling to the ground, sobbing and screaming).

Conner had seen Red Bat cool as a cat whenever a teammate or himself was injured, he'd seen him angry and calculating during a fight, seen him cuddly and happy when he relaxed with the team. He'd seen him obsess over missions and stay up late in his room on his computer until he had dark circles under his eyes that even his shades didn't cover. But it had always been different when Red Bat interacted with the other bats, with his family. Then, he was protective or exasperated or worried or sparked into anger by Shadow's sharp tongue. And there was never a pattern. Not when he was with family.

 **A/N: This is my first real foray into the land that is DC, so I am sorry for any OOC-ness or awkward scenes. I'm still getting used to this. Thanks so much for reading! I love reviews, so I hope you can leave one.**


	3. Attitudes

**A/N: This one is NOT a reverse-age fic. It IS a Jay/Dick fic, so . . . if you're not into that, this is the warning not to read this one-shot. Also, there will be a character expressing homophobic views, which ARE NOT my views, or the views of all people of any specific religion.**

 **Attitudes** \- Feelings (can be influenced by beliefs) that cause our reactions to certain things and vice versa.

 _Public attitudes can affect public policies._

Damian didn't like going shopping. It was an unnecessary waste of time, he had plenty of clothes that fit him, and spending time with Grayson and Todd, as obnoxious as their relationship was, was something that he quite despised. But he tolerated it, because it made Grayson happy when he could spend time with people that he cared about, and that idiot Drake was still barely talking with his elder brother.

They didn't buy things in every story they stopped at, but Grayson seemed to be having a good time just going through the items on the shelf. He seemed to gravitate towards the shiny baubles, which amused Todd to no end. Damian was glad that Grayson had allowed him to bring his ipod. If he had had nothing to do but listen to the two adults (and he used the term loosely), he would have gone insane by now.

They planned on eating lunch in one of the diners outside of the shopping complex, one of the kinds where people eat greasy meat and the salads are the least-ordered items on the menu. But . . . when they entered the small building, Todd and Grayson holding hands, ugh, the person behind the counter looked at them weirdly. "You two a couple?" the woman asked, all high, nasally voice and fake blond hair. Damian felt his brow furrow in confusion as Grayson answered.

"Yes, we are. Is there a problem?"

"We don't serve sinners here."

From his position behind them, Damian saw Todd's muscles shift menacingly beneath his jacket, but Grayson put a hand on his arm and nodded to the woman. "Then we'll go somewhere else. I apologize for intruding on your solitude."

Indeed, despite the hour, the diner was largely devoid of customers. As the door closed behind them, Todd swore loudly.

"Damn it!"

"Language, Jay," Grayson mildly.

"I hate people like that."

"I know. But let's just go find somewhere else to eat. Come on, I smell chili dogs."

"Grayson?" asked Damian, prompting the man to look towards him. "Why did we have to leave?"

"She didn't want to serve us."

"Because you and Todd are . . . a couple? Does she not like to have couples in her establishment?" Grayson stopped then, causing Todd to stop as well. He knelt down to look Damian in the eyes (and didn't that just grate, he could not wait until he surpassed his mentor in height as well as fighting prowess).

"It's not that we're a couple, Dami. It's that we are the same gender."

"-Tt-, that makes no difference."

"Some people's religion says that it does, and even if it hurts, we can't change their beliefs. Yelling at them doesn't work," he added with a glance at Jason. "All that we can do is take our business elsewhere."

"But why? Is that not harassment? Can that harlot not be arrested for that?"

Grayson sighed. "America's laws are rather obscure and open to interpretation in some areas; yes, in general harassment is wrong, but we also ha

ve freedom of religion."

"Freedom of speech doesn't cover harassment, Dickie."

"I know Jay," Grayson said, still looking at Damian. "But people feel threatened by this. It's easier to leave them be."

"These attitudes are discriminatory, are they not? As with the Jim Crow laws of the old South?"

He did not understand, much as he loathed to admit it. His education in these areas was rather lacking. It had not been considered important; there would be no such problems when the Al Ghul's ruled the world.

Grayson sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, causing it to stick up oddly. "Life is complicated, baby bat. Sometimes there are people who dislike other people, and no amount of reasoned argument will change their minds."

"Maybe a visit from Batman and Robin would," Damian muttered darkly. There ought to be no illogical discrimination in his city.

With a chuckle that told Damian his offer had not been taken seriously, Grayson ruffled his hair and stood back up. "We can't change people's attitudes that way, Dami." He took Todd's hand then and dragged him towards another of the nearby cafes, leaving Damian to follow, glaring angrily at those who sent a sideways glance at Grayson and Todd.

 **A/N: Well, that was fun. First time I've ever written Damian. I think I did better at the beginning than at the end.**


	4. Peripheral Route Persuasion

**A/N: When I mention a team at any point in these one-shots, it is Young Justice, 'cause I know that team and those characters much better than Teen Titans.**

 **This one-shot is set after Batman's death/disappearance, but before Dick puts on the cowl. I'll admit, I don't know much about the different Earths and reboots and such for this, so just go with it? I'm sorry for inconsistencies or anything that's too confusing.**

 **Peripheral Route Persuasion** \- Influenced by small social cues, such as a speaker's interest.

 _Hitler's vehemence against Jewish people?_

When Batman talked, the heroes _listened_. He knew that The Mission (keeping the world safe, keeping people alive, prevention before retribution, though retribution was easier and more clear-cut) was all-important. So to them, it became expected that The Mission was all-important. At least, to the bats.

Living with (being raised by) Batman, on top of that expectation, weighed heavily on all of the Robins. Some of them wore it better than others.

Dick Grayson had been fine with it, so in awe of the man who had taken him in and who fought crime on a nightly basis, that he wanted to become him. But as he grew up, as he matured, he realized that his emotions and relationships were too important to him. That he didn't want to sacrifice his friends for the sake of The Mission. He could never be The Batman.

Jason Todd was always a rebellious figure. He'd been discovered attempting to jack the batmobile's wheels, after all. He hadn't really thought much about _being_ The Batman while he was Robin. As far as The Mission went . . . he didn't make friends easily. But he'd do anything to keep his family safe, Mission or no.

Tim Drake was a detective. Before he became Robin he was a detective (stalker). He had figured out Batman's civilian identity on his own. But he never wanted to be The Batman. He was content helping Batman, being something for the hero to lean on when he needed it. But . . . he had his own reasons for doing things. And he had already lost too many people to willingly sacrifice any more.

Damian Wayne was too young. Too young by far and too willing to kill. And too new and raw and untrusted. He'd only ever been an assassin, trained not to be completely human. And The Batman had to be human before he could be The Batman.

But Gotham needed The Batman, and there were only four people in the world that had the chance of ever becoming him. Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne.

But they needed The Batman sooner than Damian would grow a few feet. So . . . logistics.

Jason Todd was still killing people, and was likely to laugh in the face of whoever expressed the idea that he take up the cowl and The Mission and the rules. So . . . personality.

Tim Drake was still technically Robin. He would need time as a solo hero in order to build up the network and skills needed to truly become The Batman. So . . . experience.

Dick Grayson was fully grown (as much as he would ever be). He kept to The Batman's rules and had been the one to voice the fact that The Batman could not die (The Batman was more myth than man, after all). He had been Nightwing for years and had an extensive network of superhero friends and allies (and an almost as extensive network of enemies). The problem would be sacrificing anything for The Mission. But he was undoubtedly human; the sacrificing might come with practice.

As Barbara rewatched Bruce's last message to his family (Tim Drake had sent her a copy, bless him), she tried not to cry. There was a note in there for her. "Be strong," he had said. "Lead my boys where they need to go." No easy feat, considering they were as stubborn as the man who raised them (their father). But leading Dick to the cowl . . . she could do that. It would break her heart to confine that bright, expressive man to the dark confines of the cowl, but she could do it. She could do it because she had to. For The Mission. And because Bruce was convinced she could. And since her injury . . . everything she had become was The Mission, wasn't it?

 _Forgive me, Dick_ , she thought as she opened a new program on a laptop. A costume designer. _But I'm not sorry_. A more flexible suit. A slightly shorter one . . . maybe some padding in the soles of the boots, make him look taller. _Not sorry at all_. But all the conviction in the world couldn't stop the tear from falling on the keyboard.

 **A/N: I wasn't expecting this one to get as angsty as it did, but, well. There it was. Drop me a review?**


	5. Central Route Persuasion

**A/N: So, this is sorta my take on what would happen after the JL found out about Robin.**

 **Central Route Persuasion** \- People focus on the arguments and agree verbally.

 _Political Rallies_

A child. An eight-year-old child. Wonder Woman fumed. Even in Amazon children were only just learning how to fight at that age. But Batman had that boy fighting crime in Gotham nightly. Nightly! Did the boy not have school?

Superman had called a partial meeting of the Justice League, Wonder Woman was the last one there. Already in attendance were Flash, Green Arrow, Martian Manhunter, Superman himself, Green Lantern, and Aquaman. All of them looked exasperated and angry.

"Was there no luck?" asked Clark as Diana sat down. She shook her head.

"We all know how stubborn he is. He will not listen to reason."

"What about the kid? Could we somehow get him away from Batman?" John (The Green Lantern) said.

"Bats wouldn't keep the kid against his will, likely he wants to be there," pointed out Barry. "For all we know, Robin could really be Bat's kid."

"Not exactly, but close," Clark said. "Bruce Wayne recently took in an orphaned acrobat, Dick Grayson."

"An acrobat." J'onn said. "Do you think that Batman may have been looking for a protegé?"

"Actually," came a voice from above the table, startling the Leaguers. "I snuck out on my own first. Then I told him I'd keep doing it, whether he trained me or not." The voice was _young_. Diana searched the rafters with piercing blue eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the boy. But . . . even if it had only been for a few weeks so far, he was trained by Batman.

"Robin." Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. Batman stood in the doorway, all but swallowed in the black cloak he wore. "Come down here."

The room was silent for a moment, then a red blur dropped from the rafters onto the Bat's shoulders. He was small for his apparent eight years, Diana noticed, and he climbed on Batman as if the dark hero were some kind of jungle gym. Clark gathered himself first.

"Fighting crime is-"

"Dangerous. I know." Robin stared at the Man of Steel, his gaze earnest, though they couldn't see his eyes behind the black domino mask. "But so is not being able to do anything about it. If no one fought crime, everything would just get worse, wouldn't it?" He was perched back on Batman's shoulder now, steadier than anyone had any reason to be on top of another person. "Besides, I've been an acrobat since before I could walk. And furthermore, If I don't try to help people, how can I be sure that anyone else would? Someone needs to make sure that more kids don't lose their parents. Being a hero isn't about sitting up in space, it's not just the big bads. Our cities still need us."

"You're a child," Diana said plaintively.

"Not anymore." The way the chilling statement was said left no room for contradiction. He slipped down from Batman's shoulder again and left.

"So . . ." Flash said into the silence as Batman swept out of the room after his bird. "Did a kid just lecture us about the responsibility of being a hero?"


	6. Role

**A/N: This one has A/B/O dynamics, but again, nothing explicit.** _ **(Dick & Tim are Omegas, Jason & Damian & Bruce are Alphas, Alfred is a Beta.)**_ **Another JayDick fic. Also, mention of BatCat. This chapter also contains strong language, because Jason. Also, some harassment stuff, but that's pretty canon-typical for A/B/O fics, so . . . .**

 **Role** \- A set of social norms defining how a person in a certain position should act.

 _Employee vs Employer._

There was something irksome about everyone expecting Dick to be submissive. He may be an Omega, but if he didn't want to do something, he wouldn't do it. If he wanted to do something, he would do it. Still . . . there were social norms that he _had_ to conform to. He must defer to the Alphas of his pack, and, as the elder Omega, he had to protect Tim. When Damian was younger, still just a pup, he had protected him as well. Jason too, though he hadn't been around much before Jason presented as an Alpha.

He knew his role in society. That being said . . . he hated it. Hated it even more when Bruce made him come to these galas, these high-society gatherings. When he was younger, Dick had attached himself to Bruce, hoping that his proximity to his Alpha guardian would deter most of the more handsy Alphas from attempting to grab at him. When he got older though, closer to sixteen and seventeen, he'd had to find a way to fend for himself. Usually making sure to be in Bruce's immediate line of sight, standing at the edge of the room, dancing only when asked, and only allowing himself to enjoy it when it was with another Omega or a Beta. Rich Alphas were usually very traditional in their treatment of Omegas as property rather than humans, even if Bruce Wayne was not. His treatment of Selina Kyle was certainly example of that. And speaking of Selina Kyle . . . there was an Omega who was not afraid to break the Omega mold. He had been rescued from over assertive Alphas by her impeccable timing more than once.

Dick grumbled to himself as he tied the tie, tugging at the knot so that it wasn't choking the life out of him. He really, really didn't want to go to this party. His heat would be coming soon, and some Alphas were bound to notice. There was always some kind of irrational fear whenever he had to go to one of these things, but the irrational fear became a bit more rational when it was this close to his heat.

"You smell delicious Pretty Boy." Strong arms wrapped around his middle as Jason smiled at him in the mirror. Then he frowned. "What's with the suit?"

"Bruce's making me go to the gala tonight," Dick said miserably, leaning into his Alpha's embrace.

"You told him you were going off of your suppressants, right?" That was the big thing that had Dick nervous. For the past few years, he'd been on suppressants to control his heats, make them as short as possible so that Nightwing wouldn't be incapacitated for nights at a time. But those suppressants could mess with his ability to reproduce if he continued taking them, and could even make it more difficult to fully bond with an Alpha. Jason. His Alpha. So . . . he'd decided to go off them. Let his heats become natural, if only for a time.

"I told him," Dick said slowly. "But he may have forgotten, or maybe he just doesn't know that my heat's close."

"Bull shit," Jason growled., tightening his arms protectively around the Omega's waist. "He'd have to be nose-blind."

"Or just generally aversive to close contact," Dick pointed out gently. "Besides, Richard Grayson hasn't made an appearance at any of these things for a while. Time to feed the wolves."

"Not when you smell like this."

Dick sighed. "Damian and Tim will be there, and Tim just ended his heat three days ago. His scent is going to be pretty strong as well."

"So where's Kon gonna be then?"

"He left yesterday; there was some crisis across the galaxy that Superman needed his assistance with," Dick explained.

"Awful timing." Dick hummed as Jason rested his head on the Omega's shoulder. "I'm coming to this one."

"Jay, they still think that you're six feet under."

"If Bruce is making you and Timmy go down there like this, then he can deal with the goddam fallout." Dick sighed again.

"We only just managed to actually get the family together, and already you and Bruce are rubbing each other the wrong way."

Jason snorted. "Which is why most packs don't have two strong fully grown Alphas living in the same place."

"We're not most packs."

"Duh."

Dick smirked, then took Jason's hand. "If you're coming, you need to dress the part."

The Alpha grumbled, but let Dick tug him back into Jason's room to rummage through the closet and grab a suit left there by Alfred. God bless the man.

The actual party was, in a word, stressful. Bruce had tensed when he noticed Jason in the suit, but Jason had glared at the older Alpha, putting an arm protectively around Dick's waist again. Bruce's lips had thinned, but he'd looked away. "My name's Todd Peters," Jason spoke up when Dick elbowed him in the ribs. "You know, if you think that'd help," he grumbled.

Bruce looked surprised, then proud. The words he said next made Dick beyond ecstatic.

"Your name is Jason Peter Todd, and you are my son." He could feel Jason stiffen beside him, and smiled up at him.

"I . . ." Jason seemed at a loss for words. "I . . . what the hell am I supposed to say to that?"

"Nothing. I should have told you that years ago."

Then Alfred entered the hallway. "The first few guests have arrived, Sir." Bruce nodded.

"Dick's not the only one that might need protection tonight, Jason," Bruce said quietly as he passed. "Keep your brothers safe."

"I will."

Of course, those first few guests weren't going to be much of a problem, they could mingle in the sparse crowd without losing sight of each other, and it wasn't a problem to spot a nervous Tim step into the room with Damian scowling at his side. It wasn't long though before the ballroom was crowded, and Dick was pressing himself close to Jason and grabbing Tim's hand to keep him close whenever an Alpha got close. Except, as the night went on, he started getting braver, started relaxing a bit. He didn't need to let the proximity of his heat control him. He wasn't a coward.

Pride is a bad trait to display as an Omega in a room full of tradition-loving Alphas. So is confidence. Unfortunately, Dick had acquired both through his nights on the rooftops. Usually he hid it, keeping his presence small so as to lessen his similarities to the hero Nightwing; but he had had a little too much alcohol, imbibed originally to keep him from cowering away from every freaking Alpha who glanced his way. His inhibitions were maybe a little compromised.

When Jason had left to use the restroom, Dick didn't stay within Bruce's line of sight as diligently as he should have. A fat hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him roughly from where he leaned casually against a wall.

"Wha-? Let go!"

But the Alpha had already tugged him out onto a balcony, away from the music and warmth and light inside. And away from anyone who could protect him. Fuck. "You smell pretty, little Omega," the Alpha growled, crowding Dick up against the wall.

"Get off." He wanted to shout it, to growl it right back at the man looming over him. He wanted to hit out and hurt the Alpha, because damn it he was _frightened_. But an Omega wouldn't act like that. And he couldn't act like Nightwing. Bruce would fucking disown him. And damn it, that was not a thought that his frightened almost-heat-brain should have rattling around inside of it, so the plea came out more as a whimper.

"Surprised Wayne hasn't bonded you yet, little thing," the man said, breathing rancid breath into Dick's face. And implying anything insulting about the pack's dominant Alpha (even if Jason attempted to challenge that every once in awhile) was grounds for any Omega to snarl and snap, and so Dick did. But his muscles were starting to loosen in preparation for his heat (he'd be able to last a few more hours- three at the most- before actually going into heat), and the Alpha was too big and too domineering. His strong, confident scent was the kind that caused most unbonded Omegas near their heat to do whatever he wanted.

Dick tried to hit the man, but the Alpha just grabbed both his wrists in one meaty hand and pulled them up, pinning them above his head as his other hand sought his hips and he bent to sniff at Dick's neck, pulling him up to his tip-toes in the process. Dick thought that he let out a distressed sort of sound, but he couldn't be sure through the haze of confusion and fear and helplessness and worthlessness. Then-

"Back the fuck off, prick." And that was Jason standing there, pulling out all the stops and even though he was shorter than the big man feeling Dick up, he managed to be much more demanding, his Alpha scent almost entirely overpowering the fat one's.

The Alpha attempted to recover, snarling at Jason and letting go of Dick's hips to press the hand to his throat. Then there was a flash of silver and Jason had a gun out, right eyebrow cocked as if asking 'And your next move, bastard?'.

The Alpha let Dick go slowly, raising his hands placatingly. "I was merely-"

Then Jason kicked the man in the crotch, sending him to the ground wheezing.

"No guns in the manor Todd," came Damian's voice, and Dick almost sobbed as Damian's Alpha scent was added to the mix. Relief or overwhelmed senses, he wasn't sure. "What has happened?" And now Damian sounded angry, bristling and protective, the way he got about his family when he wasn't consciously trying to be a mini-Bruce. But there was something wrong about his being out here alone . . . .

"Tim," he rasped, voice rough from . . . probably from what had just happened and the fact that the stress seemed to have triggered his heat. Crap. Oh damn.

"Went to bed," Damian placated as Jason grabbed Dick and held him close. "What has happened here?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," Dick slurred, clutching and Jason's broad shoulders.

"Shh, shh, not your fault, Dickie. Not even Bruce's fault. He shouldn't of made you come, but it's that fucker's fault," he said, nodding to the Alpha still prone on the ground. "You alright?"

Wordlessly, Dick nodded, and buried his face in the crook of Jason's neck, letting himself become immersed in his scent. He didn't like acting weak, but even here with his family he could not be stronger than an Omega should be, even if it would have been pretend.

 **A/N: Review please? Look!** 8O **I even gave you a longer-than-normal chapter!**


	7. Normative Social Influence

**A/N: This includes mama!cat and hints of JayDick, but it could be just a brotherly relationship.**

 **Normative Social Influence** \- Conforming to avoid rejection and/or gain social standing.

 _Peer-pressured Smoking._

Grayson needed to have father's approval. Or, rather, he felt the need to have father's approval, which was absurd. Grayson had proven himself on the streets of Gotham to the criminal element and, though Damian did not admit it outloud, to his Robin. And he was Grayson's Robin. He was not afraid of losing his father, that had already happened. He was afraid of losing Grayson. To his father.

For a time, his father had allowed Grayson to continue as Batman, despite the younger man's protests. Protests that Damian's father was Batman and he, Richard, was Nightwing. But he had acquiesced quickly. In fact, Damian liked to think that it had only been a token argument. That Grayson did not want to leave him. Damian hoped that Grayson and he could be partners forever, because they were the best, they were perfect. Batman and Robin. _His_ Batman, _Grayson's_ Robin. They belonged to each other.

But when his father once again took the cowl and asked Grayson to continue to be Batman for a time as well to confuse the criminal element, it was Grayson who took the orders and Damian's father who gave them. It was father who had began sending Grayson on more and more solo missions, and Damian watched as Grayson's skin began to pale and his bright expressive eyes became perpetually tired. Damian asked Grayson to be allowed to go with him on the next mission, but the man merely shot him a tired smile and said, "Go ask your father."

By the time the shouting had died down and Damian had went back to find Grayson and ask him to take him with despite his father's thoughts, his brother was already gone. Grayson didn't return that night, or the night after. When Damian asked his father where Richard was and when he would be returning, he received only a grunt as his father shook out the newspaper. Richard never read the newspaper at the breakfast table. Not when there was anyone else in the room, at least. Damian had never known how much less of a presence a person was when they hid behind overlarge squares of paper and ink. That afternoon, just as Damian was deciding that permission or no he would be going out to look for Grayson that night, the phone rang. It wasn't much longer for his father to begin shouting, something about someone 'not being one to talk about family'. Must be Todd on the other end. Curiosity piqued, Damian slipped from his room and into the kitchen, padding on silent feet through the clean halls of the manor so that he could pick up the phone and listen in to the conversation. This was one of the only security failings within the manor, and something that Todd had told him about. Since the manor's phone system worked off of a landline rather than a wireless connection, you could listen in to a conversation happening on another phone in the manor.

"None of your business Jason!"

"Damn you! Of course it's my goddamn business if-" Then Todd was cut off from his end as someone else took the receiver. Damian wondered what had made Todd so angry. Knowing him, it could be anything from a not-as-dead-as-he-would-have-liked criminal, to an injured comrade. Damian carefully avoided using _his_ name.

"You really should know better Bruce," came the new voice, one that Damian thought was familiar, but he couldn't place it, which annoyed him slightly.

"Selina." Damian scowled on his end. Of course. The cat. Grayson had spoken of her a few times as a kind of surrogate mother to himself and Todd, but Damian could never understand it. He knew that he had a prejudiced view because of his parentage, but he did not like that harlot one bit. She was nothing but a thief, she had no skills to rival his mother's. But . . . Grayson trusted her, sometimes even seemed to respect her. So Damian trusted her. To an extent.

"Did you know that Dick was injured?"

"I was aware of it. He claimed he could handle it."

"And you sent him on an even more dangerous mission. You are aware of how stubborn your boys are, correct?"

His father made a noncommittal grunting noise. Kyle sighed, sounding exasperated. "I called Jason to come by my place three hours ago. That was about two hours after one Dick Grayson climbed through my window covered in blood from a reopened gunshot wound among other injuries. He had a concussion and he was having difficulty staying awake. By difficulty, I mean I had to give him mild electrical shocks to keep him awake. Jason and I barely got him to stop bleeding everywhere before _nothing_ was able to keep him awake. The suit was in his bag. Why the Hell are you still making him wear that thing, Bruce? Do you realize the target it paints on your boy when he's out there alone? You don't even let Damian out with him." Damian's mother had sometimes gotten like this, attacking a victim with information and disappointment in rapid-fire succession without ever giving the unfortunate soul a moment to get a word in. "He fell asleep before we were able to stabilize him, but we don't think he's in a coma, considering he keeps calling for you and Damian in his sleep."

"He's stable? That's it then. I'll ask him for a full report when-"

"Don't you fucking dare you emotionless bastard," hissed Kyle. "You are packing up whatever worthless thing you're doing, grabbing that cute little son of yours, and getting your ass over here this instant." Damian expected his father to fight back, but he simply hung up. Damian was a little surprised by this, and so didn't quite manage to avoid Kyle's next words.

"Dick needs you Damian." Of course the sneak had known he was on the other end as well. Then his father was at the doorway, hands on his hips, all but glaring at Damian.

"You can't blame me," Damian said, petulantly, he knew, but he was justified. "You have given me none of the information I requested regarding Grayson, and I thought that perhaps you might very well tell Todd if there was something badly amiss." _Since you obviously don't trust me_ , he left unsaid as he hung up the phone. His father continued to glare at him for a while before he sighed. "Come along, Damian."

Pennyworth already has the car idling in the drive, and Damian suspected that Todd and the butler had talked before the call was transferred to his father's office. The drive was quiet, tense, as most interactions between Damian and his father had been recently if there wasn't shouting involved.

The apartment that they stopped at was in the nicer part of town, a red-brick building several stories high. Kyle opened the front door for them as they walked up, hands on her hips as she leaned against the door frame. "You two will be quiet," she hissed, and if she had a tail, it would have been lashing. Then she turned and lead them up, up, up the flights of stairs to the penthouse at the top. She opened the door quietly, nudging a cat aside gently with one foot as it stuck its nose out the door.

The penthouse was a large, mostly open space with a living room and kitchen visible from the door, and three doors, likely bedrooms and a bathroom. The door to one of the bedrooms was open. Damian looked around as he entered. It was generic enough, cream colored wall and dresser that had a few medical instruments tossed haphazardly on top. Probably the guest bedroom. But it was occupied at the moment by way too many people and cats. Kyle shooed the long-haired black cat and short-haired tortoiseshell out of the room, gently setting them down outside. And then Damian had to look at the bed, because everyone else was. Grayson was pale. Very pale, and there was sweat on his brow and dark circles under his eyes. The blanket was pulled all the way up to his chin, and bandages wrapped around his forehead, so that his black hair stuck up all over the place. Damian felt his lips compress as he did his best to keep his emotions inside. He wasn't even entirely sure what he felt; anger at father, at Grayson? Fear? Or perhaps annoyance that it was Todd and Drake that sat in the chairs at Grayson's side. Determined to be close to his mentor in the older man's time of need, Damian climbed carefully onto the foot of the bed, sitting at Grayson's feet, gazing at his slack, tired, pained face.

"Dami? Bruce? Bruce! Help!" Grayson thrashed a little before calming as Todd and Drake stroked his face and hair in placating gestures.

"I think he may have been dosed with a mild form of scarecrow's fear toxin," Drake said, looking towards Damian's father. "There's no trace of it in his system though, at least, not that I could find, so if he was, it wasn't too dangerous."

His father took in the information with a nod and turned on his heel, stalking out of the room in that mood that Damian had seen when Grayson had lectured him on something regarding his treatment of Damian. The Kyle woman sighed and followed him, leaving the four brothers alone. The peacekeeper among them unconscious on the bed. It was quiet for a while, in between Grayson's fits of yelling out names, Todd's and Drake's and fathers and his own. Once or twice he called for the Gordon woman.

"Well, not that the silence isn't refreshing," Todd said eventually, still stroking Grayson's face absently, something that made Damian's blood boil possessively. "But it's kind of fucking awkward. You both have questions. Ask them."

"Where did Bruce send Dick that ended with him like this?" Was Drake's question, but Damian spoke up quickly.

"What is it that _happened_ to Grayson? And why?"

"You recall the Arkham breakout last week?" both younger males nodded. "Joker, Scarecrow, and Ivy were never apprehended, and Croc's been laying low the last few months. I got intel from one of my sources that those four were getting together with Black Mask two nights ago to broker some kind of deal. I'm not sure whether it was a full-blown partnership or not, I'm not sure, but I'd bet my last cigarette that it was."

Damian tutted. "Horrible habit," he said. Todd glared at him before continuing.

"Dickhead told me recently that I couldn't handle everything on my own, and since he was stitching up my side at the time, I was inclined to agree to contact someone next time something too big for one person came to my attention. Bruce may think that I'm a horrible person, but I keep my word if I can."

"So you gave Bruce the intel, and he sent Dick," Drake said, narrowing his made an angry, disgusted sound.

"Just Dick. I thought that at least the Demon Brat would be on it as well-"

"I am sitting right in front of you, Todd."

"-but apparently Bruce doesn't think that his soldiers need backup." The bitterness in Todd's voice was hard to miss, and Damian thought briefly of the epitaph in the cave. 'A Good Soldier'. Abruptly, Damian noticed that he was clenching his hands into fists, and made an effort to relax them. But was that all that Grayson and Todd and Drake and . . . himself . . . were to his father?

"Why wouldn't Dick call for backup? He had to have known he'd need it," Drake said, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers together.

"And here's the thing that you two don't know about Dickiebird," Todd said, with a smile that was more grimace than anything else. "He is well aware of Bruce's faults, in fact, it's possible that he knows them better than anyone else alive. But of the four of us, he's also the only one who had a good, relatively normal family life before Bruce. He needs that close, parental relationship, something that Bruce has given . . . well . . . I'm not going to lie about this, he hasn't given it to anyone, not even his golden boy. So Dick does everything he can to get Bruce's approval. It's easier to get his approval than his love, trust me. But he needs love; Dick craves it. It's why he's so set on getting us to be an actual family. He'd give anything, _anything_ , so that this family could be a family."

"He has to know that that will never happen," Drake said.

Todd snorted. "Don't short change his ability," he said darkly. "The three of us are having a civil conversation in the same room, and Bruce is in the same building."

"So Grayson got hurt on purpose?"

"Nah," came a tired voice from the head of the bed, and Damian snapped his gaze to his mentor's face. "I came here on purpose, 'cause Selina would call Jason. Also, 'cause her place was closest." Then- "Is there any painkiller? My arm hurts like a bitch."

"You're already high on the stuff," Todd said, shaking his head. "You should have called for backup, idiot."

"Meh. Maybe next time I'll be able to. Also, it'd help if you were actually easy to get ahold of and stuff . . ." Grayson trailed off as his eyes closed. Damian just raised an eyebrow at Todd, who shrugged.

"He's doped up. Everyone acts weird when they're doped up on painkillers."

 **A/N: I think I'm gonna change this thing's status to complete, since it's a bunch of complete one-shots. Is that an OK thing to do, or would it be rude? Anyway, review, pretty please with a cherry on top?**


	8. Informal Social Influence

**A/N: Sorry, this one's really short.**

 **Informal Social Influence** -Conforming to be accurate. (Accepting others' opinions about reality.)

 _When everyone says that a shorter stick is the longer one, another person is likely to say the same, despite the evidence of their own eyes._

The Batman was scary. The general consensus was that this was a fact. His solo act could also be annoying, as if he was above everyone else. Every so often, a newby leaguer would decide that someone needed to put Batman in his place, as part of the team. Particularly when they find out, through gossip and some research if that was their field, that the criminal Red Hood had been the second Robin, that he was still a part of the batfamily. Essentially, the newbies often wondered if Batman was emotionally invested, if he refused to put the Red Hood in jail due to some kind of familial bias.

Then the newbie will probably then talk with his friends about the Red Hood, and his friends will shrug and change the topic. But an older leaguer will probably hear the newbie talking about it though, and if it's Superman, as it often is with his super hearing, he'll take the newbie aside as soon as he can and explain something to him.

"Gotham and Bludhaven are the worst cities to be a vigilante in," he'll explain. "Batman and his allies support each other because they have all lost people, and none of them want to lose any others. Red Hood is on the streets because better him in charge than Black Mask, and because Nightwing and Robin care about him." He'll go on to explain that because Red Hood was once a hero, and still worked with the bats at times, putting him in a prison would be tantamount to a death sentence.

And if the newbie then asks the question of how the bats can trust the Red Hood, Superman will say nothing more than "Because they have all already lost too much to lose anyone else." Superman will walk away then, and somehow, usually, Nightwing will pass the otherwise empty room soon after and say a few more things. "The Red Hood was trained by Batman, just like the rest of us, but he plays dirtier. Our energy is better spent fighting people who murder innocents. Also, if Red Hood got hurt, the world would have an angry daddy bats on its hands, and it can barely handle things as they are."

Then, because Nightwing's cold eyes and tense posture as he said those words, the newbie will go back to eat, but mostly just push the food around. Then, the next morning, they'll find that the idea of using intel gathered by the Red Hood really isn't too bad, and so Red Hood really can't be that bad a guy.

 **A/N: So . . . is it just me or did that kind of evolve into a kind of "If you give a mouse a cookie" sort of thing?**


	9. Deindividuation

**A/N: Bruce is OOC at the end, I'm sorry. You can blame it on stress about what happens at the beginning.**

 **Deindividuation** \- Loss of self-awareness and self-restraint in group situations that foster arousal and anonymity.

 _Looters during times of upheaval._

Masked, nameless henchmen are the most dangerous, especially in a large group. More dangerous than the thugs, which makes no sense. Except, you could usually see a thug's face, and if they had a partner, you inevitably learned their names. In his first week as Robin, Jason had been sent back to the batcave as soon as Batman caught a whiff of one of the big baddies being out and about. Which was annoying as hell. Alfred said that it was for his own good, but Jason didn't believe him.

"He needs someone to watch his back, at least!" he burst out when he'd had enough. "Take care of the goons . . . that's what I'm supposed to do, right? It's what he trains me for."

"The Batman is still training you, Master Jason. It is up to him to decide when you are ready."

"But they're just _goons_ , Alfred! I'd let him take on the big guy!" The butler raised an eyebrow at him, and Jason crossed his arms. "I would," he sulked as he stalked up the stairs and out of the Cave.

Two hours later, Jason was roused from his sleep by Alfred shaking his shoulder. "I require your assistance in the medbay, master Jason," the man said before walking briskly out the door.

"I knew it!" Jason said loudly as he descended the stairs into the cave, bare feet slapping against stone. "I knew you'd get hurt without me th-" but when he rounded the curtain separating the medbay from the rest of the cave, it wasn't Batman on the cot. "Nightwing! What happened to him!?" Nightwing's face was pale, blood mating his black hair and a gash across his cheek. The front of his black and blue costume was soaked in dark liquid.

"Get the bandages, Jason. Now!"

Since he knew that the answer to his question would be less than forthcoming at this time, Jason leapt to obey his mentor. There was no talking for a while save for orders barked by Alfred and then Leslie when she arrived and shooed Bruce out of the way with a quick "You take up more room than the boy and he can fetch just fine." It took time for the two medical personnel to hook Nightwing up to all of the machines, but once Jason understood what story they told, he was giving Batman regular updates. He flatlined once, and Jason got a crash course in using defibrillator paddles as Alfred took over keeping Bruce from barging in in a panic.

Eventually, as Nightwing stabilized, Jason was shooed away too. He had school in a couple hours, but as the adrenaline left his limbs like jelly, Bruce called in to the school and informed them that 'family business' needed to be taken care of.

"What happened," Jason demanded angrily as Bruce ended the call and sat at the chair in his office, back straight as the sun began to lighten the horizon. "Why didn't you let me come? This wouldn't have happened if-"

"It would have been worse," was Bruce's terse answer.

"I thought you and Dick weren't talking."

"He was a hostage." Bruce's lips thinned, pressed together to show his displeasure. "Apparently Joker has people in Bludhaven now."

"But why Nightwing? Joker can't know that he was Robin, can he?"

"It wouldn't take a genius, many of his moves as Nightwing were utilized while he was still Robin, and as a general rule, you should assume that Joker knows more than he should."

"So," Jason continued, getting the conversation back on track. "Next time, you'll let-"

"Not until you've had more training."

"Oh come _on_!" Jason growled, clenching his hands into fists at his side. "What's the point of all of the training if you don't let me help? I can take care of myself, you know. I did it for years before you took pity on a street rat."

"Pity?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow. "Pity, no. I was impressed with you."

"I-" But Jason didn't know how to respond to that. He never did, the few times Bruce told him he did a good job. Well, he'd only been living here for two weeks, maybe he'd be used to it eventually. "Why won't you let me help you? The goons are no different from the thugs you let me take down."

"Do you know what those particular goons did to Nightwing?"

"He was shot in the left shoulder and right foot, and multiple lacerations as well as severe bruising caused by broken ribs, one of which punctured his skin," Jason said automatically. "Why?"

"Do you think it took more than the gunshot wounds to incapacitate him?"

"Judging by the placement of the shots and the amount of blood loss and pain that would happen in a short amount of time, probably not," Jason said slowly, wondering if he maybe knew where Bruce was going with this.

"A thug would leave it at the gun wounds and simply tie him up," Bruce said, leaning forward with his elbows on his desk, fingers steepled in front of him. "These goons roughed him up afterwards, likely while he was unconscious. It is very possible Joker ordered them to do so, or that they joined with Joker because they have a personal grudge against vigilantes. But there is another possibility." He paused for a moment, and Jason shifted his weight from foot to foot impatiently. "Most of the thugs we take down are unique in some way, we can identify particular characteristics. But the goons of the Joker and Scarecrow and the like are often costumed well enough that it fosters anonymity."

"And anonymity fosters anarchy?"

"Something like that," Bruce allowed with a tired smile. "It allows for a person to commit heinous crimes without thought of retribution. It's why Harley Quinn wears her face makeup, originally it was to preserve her identity."

"But it didn't work, 'cause you're a detective."

"I had personally met her civilian identity a few times over the years. But outing her didn't make her stop with the makeup. She wasn't a bad person. In fact, she was a relationship therapist. I believe that the anonymity helps her ignore her conscious."

"Is it the same with the villains? Like Joker?"

"For some of them. Not Joker, but for some of the others, yes. It's what makes some of them so dangerous."

"Hm." Then Jason turned to go, eyes itching for sleep.

"Jason. I meant what I said. You're not coming with me until I'm convinced you're trained enough."

"Sure, old man," Jason said, because he had no qualms about lying.

His kind-of-older brother was down in the cave hooked up to all kinds of machines. And masks fostered anonymity just as well as face-paint.


	10. Cognitive Dissonance Theory

**A/N: This one's kind of more of a character study than a story . . .**

 **Cognitive Dissonance Theory** \- We want to get rid of the discomfort we feel when two thoughts disagree. (Attitudes flex to actions.)

 _Cutting in line: we say it's bad, but if we do it, we say who cares?_

Most people got mad about the number of times inmates escaped Arkham. And not just the Gothamites, other heroes could get annoyed, though more at how often Batman was called back to Gotham to deal with a few Arkham escapees. There was something . . . off . . . about one of them though. The sheer number of breakouts orchestrated by the Joker dwarfed those masterminded by other villains. And usually, he wasn't found until his next big scheme.

As time went on, some of the heroes became impressed at the Batman's persistence, impressed that he just kept putting him away rather than breaking. Others became frustrated at the Batman as the Joker's body count rose and Arkham proved time and time again to be ineffective. They weren't sure that Batman should loosen his morals, as that could spell disaster of the highest order, but they worried that perhaps he almost . . . _enjoyed_ the chase. Many who thought of this dismissed it as a thought brought on by the inherent paranoia of being constantly fighting.

But they were right. To a point. There is, after all, only so much useless labor a human will willing to undertake before the task simply becomes hopeless. But Batman can do anything. He was making Gotham a better place. The Joker would _not_ be an exception. So the Joker must be simply something that he meant to happen. A way to keep him on his toes. That's what Batman eventually let himself believe.

And then there was Robin. It had worked before, believing that he let Joker escape because he could not afford to be complacent, but Robin certainly kept him on his toes. And Joker seemed to actively target his son. Using him to get to the Batman. On too many nights Batman had sped to the cave with an injured partner in need of medical attention.

So for a time, Batman redoubled his efforts to keep Joker in Arkham, and find him when he inevitably escaped. The casualties attributed to Joker soared in those weeks, until Batman allowed him to lay low yet again. And now, his reason was that Joker was less dangerous when he didn't feel particularly hunted. Because sometimes, it's all too easy to allow an unmanageable variable to stay that way.

 **A/N: My character studies are always short . . . sorry.**


	11. Conformity

**A/N: This is age-reversal and A/B/O dynamics. Same as in past stories, but here's the background info: Damian, Shadow, Alpha / Tim, Red Bat, Omega / Jason, Batboy - Red Hood, Alpha / Dick, Robin, Omega. Bruce is Alpha, Alfred Beta. The issues inherent in A/B/O verse are in here, as well as a hint at (possible?) robincest.**

 **Conformity** \- Adjusting our behavior or thinking to coincide with a social standard.

 _Patriotism? Laws._

Grayson was a strong individual. Damian was well aware of this. As Robin, he regularly defeated villains with powers that he himself lacked. As Richard Grayson, he placed into high school classes years before anyone of his equal age would reach freshman year. One might say that Damian was a little biased; the man had helped to train the boy after all. But those people did not know Damian.

Just like they didn't know Grayson. Grayson, the happy, outgoing, energetic boy who let nothing get him down. Grayson, the flexible, smiling, impossible acrobat. Grayson, the fearless, impenetrable, talented hero. Grayson, the Omega. As of yesterday.

The family had generally accepted that Dick would likely present as Alpha, and if not, as Beta. The idea of him not dominating any conversation (or eventual relationship, but honestly, the kid was only twelve), was absurd.

Grayson hadn't notice the subtle shift in his scent yesterday morning, but as soon as he entered the dining room for breakfast, the rest of the family had noticed. Likely, the shift had happened gradually overnight, and Grayson was tired from a night staying up doing homework. But while he hadn't noticed the change to his body's chemistry, his family's reaction must have been difficult to miss.

Tim's eyes had opened comically wide where before he was all but falling asleep into his cup of coffee, and some of the brown liquid had slopped over the side as he set the cup down hastily, still staring at the boy. The newspaper had slipped out of his father's hands, fluttering with rather too much noise to the ground. Damian himself had stared at the boy as he sat in his normal spot across from him. Grayson's new scent invaded Damian's nose like the smell of food, tantalizingly there and not quite enough.

Of course, being the bat family, they never did things by halves, and Damian's Alpha side was taking a great interest in this new Omega in front of him. (He found out later that things would go back to normal as soon as his more conscious being was able to put Grayson's face and this new scent together). Drake, being the perceptive bastard that he was, noticed his attraction. Rather than waking Damian's more rational side with a sharp slap to the back of Damian's head (which, to be honest, may have ended with a knife in Drake's side), he had risen and moved around the table. All the while, father had watched with something like amusement as he picked up his newspaper again. Reaching Grayson, who was beginning to take affront at being stared at, Drake put his hands on his shoulders and bared his teeth at Damian. It sent a clear message. As the eldest Omega, Drake would protect Grayson from any and all Alphas until he was old enough to understand and protect himself. This included protecting him from family if the need arose.

Telling Grayson that his scent had changed had caused the new Omega temporary panic. He had fled from the room, faster than any of them had been expecting. Tim made to go after him, but Pennyworth stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Let him be, Master Tim," the butler said. "He needs time to come to terms with this."

After that, once Grayson had been found in the attic staring out of the small circular window, things seemed to return to normal. Robin went out and kicked the villains' asses into Arkham on a nightly basis, Dick Grayson was a mathlete with minimal sleep. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then, a few months later, Batman managed to track down the Red Hood. Todd had been laying low the last couple of weeks, for which Damian was actually thankful. There had been an Arkham breakout and he had better things to do than chase after his wayward little brother.

Batman sent Robin first, to run interference and hopefully keep Red Hood from bolting. However much Jason hated the rest of the family, he seemed to be a bit protective of his younger brother. Shadow was crouched on the top of the apartment building opposite his brother's newest safe house, watching through binoculars as Robin opened the window and slipped inside, deftly bypassing the security systems. Red Hood was getting sloppy. Shadow was happy about that, it made this night's job easier for them. But . . . perhaps leaking some of the newer bat tech to his little brother would keep him alive just a little longer. Red Bat and Robin would be . . . put out . . . if Red Hood were to die.

"Sending Robin into the hornet's nest alone?" If Shadow had been any less trained, he would have jumped. As it was, he turned coolly to look at Red Hood, standing up to his full height, less than an inch shorter than his brother. "You'd think Batman would have learned his lesson by now."

Damian clenched his jaw. "What happened to you was as much your fault as his," he said stiffly. "And you know that he blamed himself regardless."

"Besides, he knows you won't hurt me." Robin was _silent_. Even more so than any of the rest of them.

"He's gonna get you _hurt_ , little bird." Then Red Hood froze, staring at Robin. Then, he snatched his helmet off and let the red metal drop to the cement rooftop before crouching down and grabbing Robin's shoulders, staring at the boy. He's wearing a domino mask, but Shadow is sure that Red Hood's eyes stay locked on Robin's face as he gestures towards the still-open window into his apartment. "Inside, both of you. Now. Shadow, I want you to call off the others."

Shadow raised an eyebrow. "Do not presume to-"

"Or we can have this discussion out in the open. I'm sure the criminal element would love to know what Robin presented as."

"How-?" And if Red Hood hadn't been trained by his father, Shadow would have finished that question. But as it was, he already knew how his younger brother would answer. "Fine."

Todd's apartment was almost military in neatness, with weapons in their cases next to the walls, very like Shadow's own apartment in Bludhaven had been, before he moved back to Gotham in order to assist in training Robin. Todd pulled off his mask after closing his window and drawing the black drapes closed. "Masks off," he said, in the manner of someone telling their visitors to leave their shoes at the entrance. Grayson complied, stripping off the mask and setting it on the coffee table, blinking his eyes to adjust them to seeing the world without the filters in the lense. Shadow was much slower about it, first alerting his father and Red Bat of the fact that Robin and he were having a discussion with Red Hood, then taking off the mask. Unlike Grayson, Damian kept ahold of his mask.

"We wear a scent masking agent," Grayson said, looking up at Todd, who was standing in front of him. "So how could you tell?"

Todd snorted. "The way you hold yourself, Dickie. It all but _screams_ 'I'm an Omega'. Not that it's something you can _help_ ," he continued, throwing a nasty look Damian's way. "Particularly if everyone around you is treating you as an inferior."

"Be careful, Todd," Damian hissed, hands twitching to reach for the escrima sticks attached to his belt. The closest he could get to daggers.

"Piss off, Wayne."

"Guys, please." Grayson's voice broke off their staring contest. Damian huffed, crossing his arms as he turned and twitched the curtains aside to stare out the window as Todd and Grayson continued to talk. He hadn't really been treating Grayson any differently, had he? And he'd finally got to the point where his Alpha side saw Grayson as someone to protect, as family, not a potential mate. Perhaps it was more to do with school. It would not surprise Damian to know that teenagers were a cruel as ever. Todd was different. He'd been through too much to still be considered a teenager.

He was brought out of his musings by Todd's hand on his shoulder. "He doesn't notice it," he said quietly, gesturing towards where Grayson was eating cereal out of the box, "but knowing he's an Omega is changing how he acts. He's conforming to stereotypes."

"None of the rest of the family noticed," Damian murmured. Todd snorted.

"Well, most of this family is emotionally screwed up, aren't they?"

"We are supposed to be here to bring you in, you do realize this, correct?"

"Yeah. But I truthfully, honest to God, haven't killed anyone in weeks. At least. And since I don't seem to be able to trust the rest of the family with Little Bird, I may have to visit home a few times. Whether I have to break out of prison to do so or not. I'm thinking that Brucie may want to avoid the police tracking a runaway (supposed to be dead years ago) murderer to his mansion."

Gunshots rang out in the Gotham night, shattering the quiet. Todd smirked. "You might wanna get out there, Shadow."

With a nod in Todd's direction, Shadow signalled Robin to put on his mask and jumped out of the window. When Batman asked him what had happened in Todd's apartment, Shadow shrugged.

"He won't be causing any trouble; I think it in our best interests to leave him alone for now."

Then- "He seems to take his role as Grayson's older brother very seriously."

 **A/N: I love love love love love reviews! And if you have any tips on writing Damian's character, let me know! He's the hardest for me . . . but I seem to end up writing him quite a bit.**


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